Imagine Us
by Malfoyesque Tendencies
Summary: Mother always told me I should marry the best. Overheard conversations told me that the hero of the wizarding world was Harry Potter, whose hair was a messy black and eyes green like his mothers. Therefore logic dictated that Harry should be the one I married. Father didn't like him and blamed him for a lot, but despite it all that's what I believed as a child. I guess I was wrong.
1. Chapter 1

This is a story I started writing, inspired by a post on (FF name) livingforfomas' Tumblr (look-theregoallthefucksigive). I don't take credit for the whole idea! I just really wanted to turn that little 20 word post into something epic and tangible and couldn't wait any longer to see if Courtney would do it (please don't be mad livingforfomas!)

Check out her work, she writes amazeballs stuff.

This story is not at its M rating yet, but my stories almost always end up on the raunchy side so later on, so stay tuned for the promised M action down the line ;)

This chapter is sort of the Prologue... so it is a little short, bear with me, I'll have more to come soon!

* * *

"And I take you, Harry Potter, to have and hold, in sickies and health, till death do us-"

"Draco?" my mother's voice interrupted me at the most important part of my speech. "Honey, what are you doing?"

I looked away from Harry and up at her from behind the white chiffon draped over my head. I had nicked it from the laundry basket; I think it was Mamma's petticoat or something. Whatever it was, it substituted for the perfect veil for our wedding. She crouched down in front of me, completely ignoring Harry, and picked the material up out of my face. She took one look at the messy attempt at lipstick, the white negligee (also stolen from the laundry) swimming around my body and her silver high heels like clown shoes on my tiny feet - the disappointment was apparent in her stark blue eyes. I wish I had her pretty eyes, instead of my dad's; I think that Harry would prefer blue over boring, colourless grey.

"Again, really?" she sighed, pulling out a handkerchief to rub the red off my face. "Is this how a young Malfoy boy should behave? You know your father does not like it."

"I know," I shuffled uncomfortably under her gaze and allowed her to remove the nightgown as well. "I don't want to make him angry again.""

Harry stood behind Mamma, saying nothing and pretending he wasn't there; it seemed to be working.

"Then you should stop stealing mummy's clothes and make up," Narcissa scorned, but her eyes were soft. "You're turning six tomorrow darling; don't you want to dress more like daddy now that you're becoming such a big boy?"

"But you're so much prettier than daddy." I stood out of the heels and gave them to mother for her to put away. She gave me one of those stern looks that really just try to hide her smirk as I continued, "I want to be pretty too, and the bride always wears the dress!"

"You're a bride?" Narcissa's eyebrows arched slightly, "is that why you keep stealing my dresses?"

"Yes! I'm going to be Harry's wife!" I proclaimed proudly, pointing at my friend.

Narcissa turned to where I was pointing, but said nothing to the scruffy haired boy not even a meter away. She spun back around to look at me and grabbed my hands in her own. Her tone was serious when she said, "Draco, enough of these games. You know you're not supposed to say that name in this house, if your father hears you…" she trailed off and shook her head. "No, none of this now. You're a boy; boys are husbands, not wives, they don't marry other boys, they marry girls. And even if they did, a Malfoy could never marry that Potter boy, do you understand?"

"Mamma don't talk about Harry like he's not here, you're hurting his feelings!" I crossed my arms and pouted up at her; how could she just pretend Harry didn't just hear everything she said?

"Draco, stop this attitude, or I'll tell your father of your insolence. Now go wash your hands, it's time for dinner."

I hesitated for a second but decided it was best not to argue and earn myself another spanking from Father. I stalked out of my bedroom, beckoning Harry to follow as I made my way down to the bathroom.

* * *

Harry lay on my bed, his legs up against the wall and his head resting in my lap. It was a cold summer night and in twelve minutes I would be turning eight years old. Harry was still seven for almost two months. I liked being older; sometimes I teased him about being younger by saying that he should have worn the dress at our wedding. I never meant it though; I still liked being a bride.

"Why do you think your dad hates me so much?" Harry asked, colouring on his leg with a texta.

I shrugged, "because he worked for the Dark Lord."

"So?"

"So, you killed him, didn't you?" I poked him in the arm, "I still hear them talking about you, The Boy Who Lived."

"Oh yeah," Harry shrugged, "that's silly but. I'm a hero, I saved everyone! They should be thanking me."

"I think so too," I agreed, thinking about how grateful the wizarding world acted about Harry, "Father doesn't seem happy about losing his boss but."

"He's just a sore loser," the younger boy dropped the marker on my bed and turned over so he was kneeling. He pressed his lips to my cheek, like Father would do to Mamma whenever he left for work in the morning.

"Promise we'll always be friends?" I asked, scooting closer to Harry so that our noses touched.

"I promise!" Harry grinned and his eyes twinkled like the green stones in Mamma's wedding ring.

The door opened and Father stood there, his gaze sharp and curious. "Son?" he questioned, taking a step inside my room and glanced around, "who are you talking to?"

I exchanged guilty looks with Harry- he knew as well as I did that he wasn't supposed to be here. Mamma had resigned to my (according to her) strange behaviour but still forbade me to have Harry over when Father was home. "No one Sir, just talking to myself."

"It's late, you were sent to bed hours ago, in you go now," Lucius softly commanded, waving his wand and throwing my room into darkness.

As his footsteps disappeared down the hallway I whispered, "Good night, Harry."

"Happy Birthday, Draco," Harry replied, moving to the head of the bed and pulling the covers up over both of us.

* * *

If I sat still and closed my eyes, I could imagine the bickering was coming from a crystal ball or a howler – not from my parents. They had been fighting all day and hadn't even realized I had left the mansion; it would still be ages before they came looking for me –if they did at all. Harry sat beside me, his arm around my shoulders comfortingly.

"You know they won't hear you from this far away Draco, we're on the other side of the garden," Harry said, nudging me softly.

"I know that."

"C'mon, don't be sad, I'm here."

"You're the only one that is ever here for me," I mumbled, sinking deeper into my own knees tucked up against my chest, "my parents don't even know I exist half the time; all they do is fight."

"I'm the only one you need, silly," he smiled and his grip on my shoulder tightened.

"Do you think I'll make friends when I get to go to Hogwarts next year?" I asked, rubbing the toe of my shoe in the dirt.

"You'll make millions!" Harry exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. I panicked slightly, grabbing his hand and pulling them back down, making a 'shush' noise.

"But," his tone got serious, "you're not allowed to forget about me okay?"

I looked into his eyes, surprised. "How could I possibly forget you, you're my husband. You're my best friend Harry, I love you."

"I love you too, Draco." Harry smiled, and rest his head on my shoulder.

* * *

"It's here!" I bellowed, skidding around the doorway to the kitchen in just my socks and boxers. "Mother! Father, it's here! It finally came!"

The stern look from Father quelled my yelling as I entered, waving around a tea coloured envelope with a burgundy wax seal. The address read:

_Mr Draco Malfoy  
Second Master Bedroom  
East Wing  
Malfoy Manor_

"Is that how we have taught you to act Draco, and dress?" Lucius raised his eyebrow at me, nodding at my nearly naked form. "Really now, put some clothes on before you approach adults – and _never_ raise your voice like that, it's embarrassing."

"Sorry Father," I apologised and adjusted my tone, still grinning from ear to ear and looking at Mother. She smiled and flicked her wand wrist, making a pair of track pants and a singlet float in from down the hall. I plucked them out of the air and put them on before sitting down next to Father at the kitchen table. A plate of French toast and freshly cut oranges was already waiting for me.

"Look, Mother," I repeated, holding out my letter. She unfolded it, quickly scanning the contents.

"A standard acceptance letter Draco dear, you knew it would be coming this year."

"I know but," I couldn't help but feeling like a hundred butterflies were trying to escape from my belly out of my throat, "it finally feels real! I'm really going to Hogwarts in September!"

"You already use magic here," Mother said, sitting down opposite me and reaching for a slice of orange, "it will be no different at Hogwarts, except you will be around new people."

"And Harry will be there too."

It was the wrong thing to say. Father stiffened and Mother's eyes widened in silent reprimand.

"I mean, you know I'll finally get to meet this prat who ruined our lives," I quickly added. "I bet he'll be in stupid Hufflepuff."

"The young Potter will be in Gryffindor, like all of his family Draco, just as you will be in Slytherin," Lucius chided, "and you would do well to keep away from such a pathetic excuse for the wizarding world's saviour. _He isn't a hero, Draco_."

"I know, Father," I mumbled, "excuse my ignorance, it was childish of me."

Not long after I received my letter Mother and Father took me to Diagon Alley to buy all of the things I would need for my first year of Hogwarts. I spent no time in getting to the dressmakers, Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Lucius chose not to come with us, instead opting to fill out my book list whilst I was fitted. Mother only stayed long enough to tell the lady behind the counter exactly what fabrics and threads she wanted and then told me that she was going to speak to Olivanders about purchasing my wand. This information left me feeling giddy. Remembering I was a Malfoy with a reputation to uphold however, I held my chin high and spoke with the practiced important air of someone deserving of my family's lineage - Father said if i acted anything less I would pay later.

As the old lady was fussing about around me making adjustments to the shop robe, a boy around my own age entered the fitting area and was propped up on a stool next to my own. He was scrawny, and untidy looking. When I looked at his face, however, something about his eyes made my stomach flip.

"Hello, Hogwarts too?" I asked, my voice feigning what I hoped was collected cool and calm.

"Yes."

"My father's next door buying my books and mothers up the street looking at wands. Then I'm going to drag them off to look at racing brooms, I don't see why first years can't have their own," I looked down at my feet, wondering if I was being impressive enough. Father liked to brag about his power over people in higher positions than himself… maybe I should try that too. "I think I'll bully father into getting me one and ill smuggle it in somehow. Have you got your own broom?"

"No."

The boy was making having a conversation awfully difficult and I began to wonder why I was even bothering; it probably had something to do with those green eyes. "Played quidditch before?"

"No," at this the dark-haired boy sounded confused, and the skin between his eyebrows creased.

Impress, impress, impress. "I do, father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet?"

"No."

An absolute dead weight in conversation; I tried to imagine what Harry would have said, I always had the best talks with him at home. "Well, no one really knows till they get there do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin - all our family have been. Imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave wouldn't you?"

"Mmm."

I sighed, resigning to the fact that this boy was a nobody with nothing interesting to say. How could I be friends with someone who only knew the basic yes and no's of English? Someone outside the window caught my eye. He was huge and holding two ice creams; waving and grinning stupidly. "I say, look at that man."

"That's Hagrid, he works at Hogwarts," the boy said, seemingly having found his tongue at last.

"Oh," I nodded, remembering something Father told me about a half-giant living at the school, "I've heard of him, he's a sort of servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper."

"Yes, exactly," I grinned at the stories, "I've heard he's a sort of savage. Lives in a hut in the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic and ends up setting fire to his bed."

"I think he's brilliant," the terse note in the boy's voice caught me a little off guard.

"Do you?" I asked in earnest surprise, then realized the half-giant must be a friend of this nobody. "Why is he with you, where are your parents?"

"They're dead."

"Oh, sorry," I said slowly, feeling awkward. Interaction with kids my own age was still new, and talking about dead parents was definitely not something I had any experience on, except that Father said I should only make friends with Pure-bloods. "But they were our kind, weren't they?"

"They were a witch and wizard if that's what you mean."

He was so vague I couldn't tell if he was being smart or was honestly just that ignorant about bloodlines. I decided to resort back to my Father's tactic of persuading company to your point of view through opinion-pushing – it always seemed to work with his house guests.

"I really don't think they should let the other sort in do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways - some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts 'til they get their letter, imagine! I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families… um, what's your surname, by the way?"

The boy opened his mouth but was interrupted by the woman fussing around his waist.

"That's you done my dear," she said, and motioned for him to hop down off the stool.

As he did I realized that our conversation was over. I shrugged, figuring I probably wouldn't have to deal with this boy again anyway. Malfoy's didn't deal with nobodies. "Well I'll see you at Hogwarts, I suppose."

"I suppose," he replied, and promptly turned and followed the old lady back out to the front of the shop.

"What is taking so long, woman?" I asked, glaring down at my own fussing lady. The nobody had gotten in and out in barely any time at all, "I want the other one, she's faster."

"Now now young master, you have a few more items being made for yourself than he did," she clucked softly, "you're nearly done, just be patient."

I only stayed still and let her continue because I imagined what it would be like to get home to Harry and tell him about that fool I met at Madam Malkins; I bet he would laugh with me too.

* * *

**Please please please review! I would love to know what you guys think before the next chapter!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you guys who reviewed the first chapter! I hope this update lives up to your expectations!**

* * *

The platform was a bustle with hundreds of children calling out to their friends or racing to get on to the large burgundy red train. I looked around, waiting for Fathers associates, the Crabbe family and Goyle family. They would come around our house every now and then, always bringing their respective children Vincent and Gregory. The boys were both my age, which pleased me because it meant I would at least know someone in my year. Pansy Parkinson was another kid my age, she used to write me love letters when we first met at the age of seven, but also teased me when I told her about my husband so I never wrote her back.

Today however, the short brown bob cut of Pansy appeared through the throng of people and she waved and called excitedly when she saw me and my family standing near the front of the train.

"Draco!" she grinned, her cute, squashy nose pink from the cool breeze. "I'm so glad to see someone I know, isn't this exciting!"

I opened my mouth to reply with an equally excited yes, but one quick glance up at Father and I knew that it wouldn't be appropriate. "It's alright, I guess," I drawled, sounding as bored as I could. "Have you seen Crabbe or Goyle? Father's waiting to speak to their dads."

"I think I just saw Mrs Crabbe appear through the platform wall, no sign of the Goyles yet though, I've been walking up and down this whole platform looking for you!"

"Where's your parents, Pansy dear?" asked Mother in polite interest.

"Ma and Pa are a bit further down, they're talking to Theo's father about Ministry business, it's so boring," Pansy bubbled on. "Draco did you want to sit with me on the train? I already have my trunk in one of the front compartments; come on, let's take your stuff too."

I waited for Father to give his permission, took my trunk and began following Pansy across the crowded walkway. She had chosen a compartment very close to the front. As she grabbed the other end of the trunk and helped me lift it into the train, I saw Gregory and Vincent's large hulking bodies moving in our direction. I waved to catch their gaze and they veered slightly to meet us near the footstep of the compartment. I heaved my trunk inside and, once Pansy had let go, hoisted it onto the racks above the seats.

Gregory and Vincent's parents had both found their way over to mine, and when I returned I could hear Father discussing something hushed with Mr Goyle. Mother wrapped an arm around my shoulders in a way that made my insides warm. Overhead a loud whistle blew and all the children began hugging their parents and scrambling onto the train, only to hang out of the windows and wave frantically. I turned to Mother and she knelt and embraced me tightly. Before she let me go completely however, she pulled away just enough to look straight into my eyes.

"Draco," she said, so quiet even I could barely hear her; "you're leaving Harry at home aren't you? You know you can't have him at school, don't you?"

I rolled my eyes, "Mother I am not a child anymore, don't be stupid."

"Promise?"

"I promise Mother, I don't even see him anymore." It was a blatant lie. Of course I still saw him; I thought about him all the time. But I couldn't keep acting like a child anymore… I had new friends to make.

I didn't participate in the window waving – it would have been looked down on, I'm sure. One last quick hug from Mother and a stiff handshake from Father and I turned my back and boarded the train. Pansy was almost falling out of the window beside me, calling out to her family. Once the train finally left the platform behind, she stuck her head back inside and sidled up next to me and cooed in my ear.

"So, are you really not excited to be going to Hogwarts?" her brown hair tickled my neck as she leaned in to me.

I hesitated for the briefest of seconds, deciding how I wanted to portray myself to the people I could see myself spending most of my time with. Crabbe and Goyle were play fighting on the seat opposite me and Pansy – not the most intelligent boys but what they lacked in brains they made up for in brawn and this could be advantageous to me. Pansy was deceptively smart though, for all her girlish behaviour I had been on the end of some of her practice hexes back at the Manor and she knew a lot about the dark arts already – almost as much as myself.

I wanted to become the leader of this group, I finally resolved to myself, the way Father would expect me to act. "Of course I'm not Pansy, who on earth would I prefer to get taught under that joke Dumbledore, when I was doing perfectly fine with lessons at home?"

"Oh, I guess so…" Pansy shrugged, her shoulders deflating slightly as she sat back against the window. "So, did you hear? Harry Potter's in the sixth compartment down, he's sitting with a _Weasley._"

My stomach dropped at the mention of his name. I shot my head around to look at her faster than I really should have; she saw the sudden interest spark behind my eyes I was sure. "How do you know that?"

"Oh please," Pansy rolled her eyes and grinned, "It's me, I have ears everywhere."

"So, he really is here," I sucked in my breath and tried to steady the pace my heart had begun drumming against my chest. I had to meet him.

Pansy smirked, "oh, Draco still likes The Boy Who Lived, does he?"

My ears turned pink, embarrassed that she mentioned such a thing in front of Vincent and Gregory. "No! Don't be stupid Parkinson," I snapped, "I just… think we should probably go find out what kind of person he is, you know, see if we can get any information on him for our parents."

I held my breath waiting to see if she believed me; if she didn't, she didn't say anything. She simply nodded. "Okay then, well like I said, he's in the sixth room on the left. I won't come; I want to start on this textbook before we get there." Pansy pulled out _Magical Drafts and Potions _that had been prescribed for our first year, and drew her knees up to balance it on.

"Crabbe, Goyle," I snapped and the boys froze mid-headlock, "come on, let's go pay the Boy Wonder a visit."

They untangled themselves and followed me out of our cabin. As we made our way along the corridors whispers of Harry being on the train met my ears from every direction; it seemed everyone really was talking about his presence. I felt small and bashful, squeezing through a group of older girls chatting away behind their hands in giggles and gasps, but I kept my head high as if I were taller than all of them – to be fair, I was quite tall for my age and wouldn't have been that much shorter anyway.

I felt my heart beating up in my throat as I reached for the handle of the compartment apparently holding the infamous Potter boy – _my_ _Potter boy. _I slid the door across revealing a tall, gangly boy with a long nose and shockingly red hair, and beside him was…

The boy from Madam Malkins.

I blanched, my eyes locking to his as he turned to face the sudden intrusion. It was unmistakably that little nobody, with those piercing green eyes. No, I refused to believe that this boy was Harry Potter; there was no way.

"Is it true? They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment, so it's you is it?" I sounded probably more pompous than I meant to, I was just so caught off guard by this, this-

"Yes," he said; reminding me again of his wonderful vocabulary.

"Oh…" I hesitated, still trying to understand how this had happened; he wasn't like my Harry at all. "This is Crabbe, and this is Goyle," I motioned to Vince and Greg beside me, determined to fix our encounter in the store, "and my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."

The redheaded boy opposite Harry sniggered.

"Thinks my name's funny do you? No need to ask who you are, my father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles and more children then they can afford," I spat at him, feeling my temper rise by the second; this wasn't going at all how I imagined it. I turned back to Harry, "You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter, you don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort... I can help you there."

I held my breath, hoping he would see the friendship I was offering for what it was.

"I think I can tell the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," Harry said, staring me down in a way that made my ears turn pink – I hoped no one noticed. I hid my embarrassment with anger; no one rejects a Malfoy.

"I'd be careful if I were you potter. Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents; they didn't know what was good for them either. You hang around riff raff like the Weasleys and that Hagrid and it will rub off on you," my eyes narrowed as I jerked my head at the tall kid for emphasis. I never imagined real Harry could be so arrogant and stubborn.

"Say that again," the redheaded boy dared, his voice low.

I sized him up, considering the amount of effort Vincent or Crabbe would need to use to flatten him. It wouldn't be much. "Oh you're going to fight us are you?" I taunted.

"Unless you get out now," came the reply, but it wasn't from the Weasley boy. My eyes snapped back to Harry and I tried my best not to look as hurt as I felt. He hated me. Harry Potter hated me. I could feel it all around the cabin.

I wanted to cry.

Instead I steeled myself and became my Father's son. "But we don't feel like leaving, do we boys? We've eaten all our food and you still seem to have some," I said, looking down at the bulk candy scattered around on the seats. As if on cue, Gregory leant over to snatch up a chocolate frog. But in almost the same second he pulled his hand back as if he had just been burnt, yelping in pain. A large, fat rat was hanging off the other end of his finger, blood dripping down onto the carpet as he shook his hand violently trying to get the rodent to let go.

Harry and his friend howled with laughter and I could feel our presence losing the power trip it had moments ago. Gregory finally managed to dislodge the rat and it scampered back towards the Weasley. He clutched his bleeding hand and looked to me for help.

"This isn't even worth it," I scowled, feeling so defeated, "let's just get out of here. Enjoy your train ride, Boy Wonder." We turned and made our way quickly back to our carriage, Gregory whimpering and moaning about his hand the whole way.

Pansy looked up when we entered, a curiosity etched in her round features. "Well?" she asked, then caught sight of Goyle and the blood running down his finger, "ugh, Goyle, what the hell? Don't drip on me! What happened?"

"He's an absolute tosser!" I barked, not caring about saving face. I was upset, everything was ruined. "He's friends with a Weasley and looked at me like I was dirt."

"Uh…" Pansy closed her textbook and sat up straighter, pulling out her wand to inspect Gregory's injury; though one eye stayed locked on me the whole time. "Draco, I thought you were only trying to get information, not befriend him."

"Don't be stupid Pansy," I snapped, throwing myself down into the unoccupied seat across from her. I crossed my arms and glared out the window, deciding to ignore her and the other two for the rest of the journey. Pansy flicked her wrist and a band aid appeared on Goyle's finger. It was an odd shape and slightly furry, but nevertheless it stopped his complaining and I was silently grateful.

* * *

The sorting hat barely touched the tips of my hair when it bellowed, "Slytherin!" and the old lady Professor whipped it back up away from my head. I hopped off the stool, feeling proud for the first time since I had left the Potter boy's compartment on the train. I tried not to notice or care when after a decent amount of time for Harry to be sitting with an ugly old hat covering half his face it cried out, "Gryffindor!"

But I did notice. And I did care.

Somewhere deep inside myself I had always imagined Harry to shock everyone and become a Slytherin, and we would choose beds next to one another and talk until all hours of the night about silly things that didn't matter, or even swap notes for classes we hadn't been paying attention in because we'd been playing hangman or naughts and crosses. It was something I had only ever fantasized about, and discussed with my Harry back at home. Instead I was unpacking my trunk next to an exotic looking kid whose name I didn't quite catch when he introduced himself –_Zucchini? – _and wishing beyond all the stars that I could just hide away in a closet and talk to my Harry; the one who begged me to not forget him, and who swore we would be best friends forever.

But I couldn't, because I wasn't a child anymore. So I drew the curtains around my bed, crawled under the satin green duvet and curled into a ball. Around me, the other boys were laughing and teasing one another, mingling and being generally excited about starting their first year at Hogwarts. I never thought I could feel so lonely in a room full of people.

In the morning, I refused to admit to having cried when the lights went out; it must have been that painting of Medusa hanging between mine and Vincent's beds.

* * *

The first few days dragged on without seeing Harry at all. I tried to tell myself I didn't care, he was a prat anyway. First years had Transfiguration with Hufflepuffs taught by Professor McGonagall, the head of Gryffindor house. I hated her based on that alone, but I soon learnt she was stern and fair, and secretly I respected her for it. Herbology with Ravenclaws was taught by a woman who looked –and smelt- like she belonged in a homeless shelter. Her dress sense would have made Mother faint and I made a mental reminder to tell her about it in my first letter home.

Finally, on Friday, we had Potions class. Professor Snape was a personal friend of Father's so I was already well acquainted with him from when he would visit during his school holidays. He smelt of shoe polish and cloves; I liked him very much.

Potions was taught with the first year Gryffindors. I spent the entire time pretending to study the recipe and ingredients for the concoction we were expected to hand in –I had made the Cure for Boils at home twice before under Father's instruction- and trying hard not to keep flipping around to see what Harry and his stupid pal were doing. Snape had targeted him at the start of the lesson and it didn't seem to be going well at all. I sniggered and joined in with Greg and Vince jeering at him whenever he was brought to attention, but really I wasn't finding it amusing like I should have been. I couldn't stop thinking about how if it had been me he was sitting with maybe Snape wouldn't have been so harsh; at the very least he would have gotten the potion correct and not made an example of by end of class. The only really funny part of the lesson was when Longbottom dissolved his partner's cauldron and had to be sent to the hospital wing when gigantic red boils started popping up all over his face and hands.

The same idiot broke his arm in our flying lessons a couple of weeks later– flying lessons we were so conveniently having with the Gryffindors. When Madam Hooch left us alone on the grounds escort him up to the hospital wing, I saw my chance to get back at him for making me so miserable. His friend had dropped a glass ball when he had fallen, just a short distance away from where I stood. I snatched it up while Pansy teased one of the Gryffindor twins.

"Look, it's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him," I called out, tossing and catching the little ball in one hand.

"Give that here Malfoy," Harry demanded, so predictably going for my bait.

"No," I sneered, "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to collect, how about up a tree?"

"Give it here!"

I swung my leg over the shitty school broom I was meant to be learning how to fly and shot upwards into the air. It was a little wobbly but was responsive and pulled up when I jerked the handle back. "Come and get it Potter!" I taunted, throwing the little ball up and down again.

The bushy haired girl Harry and his Weasel had seemed to have made friends with grabbed his robe and objected, but he shrugged her off and mounted his own broom-for-hire. I was mildly surprised when he pushed off from the ground with the ease of a natural – being under the assumption Harry had grown up with muggles far, far away from anything even remotely magical. He overtook me in height, swerving around and coming to a stop twenty feet away and just slightly above where I was hovering. I couldn't take my eyes off of him; he looked so good flying around.

"Give it here or I'll knock you off that broom," Harry called out, gripping the handle of his own broom menacingly.

"Oh yeah?" I shot back, quickly bringing my stupid brain back down to the situation I was in –which was one where I had the very real possibility of being hit and pulling a Longbottom before Hooch got back. I hadn't expected him to be any good in the air. He tilted the handle down and I had only just enough time to swerve out of the way as he dove straight for me.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your neck, Malfoy," Harry called out, spinning back around to face me. Mentally, I agreed with him, and decided it would be better to end this charade before one of us actually got hurt.

"Catch it if you can then!" I sneered, and pegged the ball as hard as I could up and over Potter's head.

It was like watching a quidditch match. Harry's gaze followed the ball up and as it began to descend he instinctively shot forward, his hand outstretched and determination plastered all over his face.

He was gorgeous. His already messy hair swept out of his face by the wind rushing past, a scowl set on his lips, and gripping the shaft of the broom in a way that it reacted in perfect sync with his movements. It was mesmerising watching him fly.

His hand closed around the ball only four feet from the ground. Below me, the other Gryffindors burst into applause and my own house made various noises of depreciation. As I made my own decent, I saw the front doors of the castle burst open and Professor McGonagall was marching up to Harry.

I smirked, watching her demand she follow her inside, but as the doors closed again a sick feeling began pooling in my stomach… would he be expelled? Did I just get Harry Potter kicked out of Hogwarts?

I tried to push it to the back of my brain as I landed and Pansy began whining about how moronic and blind all the lions seemed. I agreed and took a seat in the grass, waiting for the flying teacher to come back and take my mind off my thoughts.

* * *

The next day I saw Harry enter the Great Hall for breakfast. He looked cheerful and completely unbothered by his expulsion. I shovelled the rest of my omelette down and jabbed Crabbe and Goyle in the side, beckoning them to follow as I stood up and made my way over to the Gryffindor table. He and the Weasel and the bushy haired girl had just started spooning baked beans and tomato onto their plates when I reached them, Vince on my left and Gregory flanking my right.

"Having a last meal Potter?" I smirked, mentally begging him to tell me otherwise. "When are you getting the train back to the muggles?"

Harry simply shrugged and cocked his eyebrow as he looked up at me, "you're a lot braver now you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you."

I glared and Goyle began cracking his knuckles menacingly; but with all the teachers sitting up at the head table I knew there was nothing we could do here. "I'd take you on anytime on my own; tonight if you want. Wizard's duel, wands only, no contact... Oh what's the matter, never heard of a wizards duel before I suppose?" I could see it from the look in his eyes he had absolutely no idea what I was talking about. He opened his mouth but Ronald –I had learnt the Weasel's name finally- interrupted Harry's almost response.

"Of course he has, I'm his second," Weasley shot back, "who's yours?"

I gave my friends a quick once over. "Crabbe. Midnight alright? We'll meet you in the trophy room, that's always unlocked."

A curt nod from Ron and resounding silence from Harry ended our conversation, and I strode back to the Slytherin table feeling excited.

I had a date with Harry tonight.

No, _not a date,_ I tried to remind myself, _a duel. You're going to kick his ass for thinking he's too good for you, and for ruining the best friendship of his life. Oh yes, _I thought, _Potter's going to regret picking Weasley over me._

* * *

My robes felt hot as I slumped in the green sofa in the Slytherin common room. Classes had finished for the day and I was sitting around with Theo and Pansy trying to finish my nine inches of parchment on the many uses of dragon's blood for Snape. My mind kept wandering back to the conversation with Harry. I had to speak to him tonight, maybe after I had severed his ear off or something. But how would I do that with his annoying friend coming too?

Pansy jerked me out of my thoughts with a jab of her eagle quill. "Draco, are you even listening? I'm trying to help you here!"

"Huh?" I sat up, blindly reaching for my own quill that had fallen down beside the cushions somewhere, assuming she was talking about our homework.

"I think this duel is a bad idea, you shouldn't go."

"Are you daft?" I blinked at her in surprise, "if I don't go they'll think I chickened out! I am _not_ going to let them think I was scared."

"Then don't," Pansy reasoned, her eyes flashing in that way that gave away her plotting, "you should tell Filch. Get him to spring them out of bed wandering around the castle; they'll have detention for a month! _And_ you won't run the possibility of being there. Because you know either way, getting caught is highly possible -_especially_ if you're all planning on flinging hexes and jinxes around the trophy room!"

I thought about her idea for a few moments before replying, "you have a point, I guess." Inside my stomach began twisting into knots, over the last few hours I had calmed down and no longer really wanted to mame him, but I needed to see Harry tonight, _I needed to talk to him. _I couldn't get the stupid git out of my mind and I wanted to confront him about the possibility of starting over. And then and idea struck me. It wasn't perfect, but it would do the trick. "You're right Panse, I'm going to go tell Filch now."

"Wait, I'll come with you," Pansy moved to stand but I stopped her.

"No, it's alright; I think I want to take a walk by myself."

She slumped back into the chair, disheartened, "okay then. But when you get back I want to verse you at chess."

I shrugged and waved behind me as I left the common room. The dungeons were cool quiet and exactly what I needed. My skin still felt hot but the soft air blowing from down the corridor was refreshing on my skin. I took a left instead of going right towards the upper floors where Filch's office was. The more I walked, the more my thoughts seemed to swim around in my head, becoming louder and louder, until I swore I could hear someone call my name.

Wait, someone was calling my name.

I spun around and came face to face with Harry; my Harry.

"Draco!" he looked sad, there were lines between his brow and he was chewing his lip.

"Harry," I blanched, staring at my husband. "What are you doing here?"

"You've been so sad lately Draco," Harry spoke softly, stepping closer to me. "Why aren't you smiling anymore?"

I looked down at my feet and murmured, "you're not supposed to be here Harry. I can't see you anymore."

"Says who?"

"Mother," I refused to look up into his eyes, scared to see his expression when I said "and you know Father's never liked you being around. I'm not a baby anymore Harry, you can't be here."

"You don't mean that Draco," I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck prickled as Harry's hand touched my chin and forced my eyes to his. "You miss me."

"I-" I choked out, noticing that the fine details of my Harry's face had shifted slightly. He looked more like the boy in Madam Malkins now. "I'm not supposed to talk to you. It wasn't meant to turn out like this!"

"What are you talking about?"

"You!" I was yelling now, my voice shaking, "you're not at all like you were meant to be! You were supposed to be my friend, and now you're a Gryffindor and you're hanging out with the charity case!"

"Draco," at least his voice was still the same that I had heard for the last eight years, "you always knew deep down that I would be put into that house. It doesn't change anything…" He wrapped his arms around me and I fell to the floor, hiding my face in his shoulder.

"Malfoy?"

A cold voice met my ears and suddenly Harry was gone and I was leaning against the brick wall, my face stinging from tears I quickly tried to wipe away.

"Professor," I gulped and stood up, hoping the dim lighting didn't show how pink I knew my face would be. Not that it mattered; Snape had obviously seen me crying.

"What in the name of Salazaar are you doing on the floor," he asked, his eyes travelling over me in concern.

"Please, don't tell Father," I said quickly, straightening my robes, "I just… I got lost. And I couldn't find my way back, so I got upset... I'm looking for Filch's office."

Snape kept silent long enough for me to wonder whether he was going to call my bluff. Finally he pointed back towards the way he came and said, "Mr. Filch's office is on the ground floor, beside the portrait of the headless hydra."

"Right," I nodded, and quick-stepped past him.

"Draco," Snape called after me. I turned back and he continued, "you can come and chat with me you know, whenever you feel you need it."

"Thank you, Professor," I smiled and hurried away from those penetrating eyes before he could delve into my mind – Father had told me once that Snape was an accomplished Legilimens.

* * *

It was eleven thirty. I crept out of the boys' dormitory and up the stone steps to the common room, hoping it was empty to avoid having to see anyone on the way out. There was no such luck however, as Pansy was still up and writing. She looked up as I entered, squinting in the candlelight.

"Draco? What are you-" she looked over at the large silver pendulum clock hanging on the wall, "oh you are _not! _I thought you were going to leave them to Filch!"

"I am," I rolled my eyes; "I'm not going to go dueling Pansy."

"Well then, what are you doing exactly?" she sounded skeptical.

"I just want to corner Potter," I conceded, resigning to the fact that lying would only cause her to tail me all night, "you know, get him on his own for a few minutes."

Pansy raised her eyebrow, "why?"

"Pansy, just let me do this without all the questions okay? I'll talk to you tomorrow if you just drop it for now," my eyes darted to the clock – eleven forty. It was going to take me at least fifteen minutes to make it up to the third floor and figure out where I was going to hide and wait for the two boys.

"Alright, fine," Pansy said, "but I'm holding you to that, Draco."

I promised her I would and rushed out past the dungeon door, which quickly slid back to being completely inconspicuous as soon as I was out of it – I still had trouble remembering exactly where it was, considering there wasn't a single thing to landmark it next to.

By the time I reached the third floor, I had already barely missed running into both Mrs Norris and Peeves, who was bouncing around in a classroom writing filthy words on the board. I entered the trophy room holding my breath hoping I wouldn't be walking in on Harry and Ron if they had decided to show up early. A clock on the wall read six minutes to midnight, and I sighed at the empty room. Quickly surveying the room for a suitable hiding spot, my eyes fell on to a rather large portrait of Brutus Scrimegeour and I suddenly remembered Snape discussing the known secret passageways in Hogwarts. I was certain that this was one of them, Snape had mentioned a portrait of a red face, jolly looking fat man with a white, waxed mustache that lead to another corridor if you gave him the password.

I just couldn't remember exactly what that was. Cursing lowly, I hurried over to the painting and poked the old man awake.

"Good heavens young man!" Brutus cried out, squinting down at me.

I quickly shushed him with my hands and whispered, "Err, I need to use your passageway Sir."

Brutus raised a single eyebrow, "I have no idea what you're talking about. Why are you out of bed, it must be-"

"Yes, it's nearly midnight, please! I really need to hide," I begged him; desperately racking my brain to remember what it was Snape had said. "Uhm, breast pesto?"

Brutus continued to stare at me silently. I heard footsteps coming down the hallway and felt my heart begin to hammer faster. "Best pacific?" I was sure it was close, but Brutus was giving nothing away with his pompous glare. I looked around the room, hoping something would jumpstart my brain. There was murmuring right outside the door now. An old latin textbook lay open on the table next to a display cabinet with the words 'beati pacifici' in bold under the heading. My mind jerked and I bit my lip, could it really be that simple? "Beati pacifici!"

Brutus grunted and without a word, swung open to reveal a dark, hidden passageway. I hurtled through the painting and heard Brutus snap back in to place just as the door to outside opened, and an unidentified number of footsteps crept through the empty trophy room. I stood as close to the backside of Brutus' painting as I could without touching it, for fear of him thinking I wanted to come back out, and listened hard.

"He's late," I heard Ron say after a long moment, "maybe he's chickened out."

I wanted to jump out and punch the Weasel for even suggesting it, but only seconds later, another noise could be heard from the other end of the trophy room where a second entrance lay. I knew instantly that it must be Filch, coming to catch the students out of bed that I had promised. I listened as the first group of footsteps quickly retreated back the way they came.

"They're in here somewhere," Filch's voice filled the room as he talked to his cat, "probably hiding."

He and Mrs Norris sniffed around until finally exiting out of what I guess was the same door Harry and Ron had come in from. I waited another five minutes, just to be sure, then pushed gently on the back of Brutus' portrait. It moved out slowly so that I could check the coast was completely clear and when I decided it was, pressed against it once more and he swung open all the way. I thanked him as I headed towards the door, peering around it cautiously.

The corridor seemed to be deserted as I made my way slowly down, only guessing what way Harry might have ran. Suddenly the sound of muted screaming came from behind me somewhere from one of the locked doors. I leapt sideways behind a large suit of armour and crouched down, peeking out from behind his thigh only just enough to see what was coming, feeling as though my heartbeat was as loud as the unidentified yelling. Four kids came streaming down the corridor as fast as their feet could carry them and I recognised all of them as Gryffindors; Harry and Ron who I had been expecting, but also the Granger girl and Longbottom. Trying not to dwell on why the hell he had brought those pair –probably to cheer him on- I muttered ' s_ilencio,'_ pointing my wand at my own feet and waited for the group to pass my hiding spot.

The girl and Longbottom were in front, closely followed by Ron and Harry following up the rear. I mentally thanked Salazaar for making my job so much easier. As they passed, I jumped out and followed them about forty feet until an open classroom door appeared just ahead on the right. Making no noise whatsoever I caught up to Potter, threw my hand over his mouth and shot the silencing spell at his back. I could feel his vocal chords vibrate as he yelled in shock, but no noise emitted from behind my hand. I pulled him sideways into the open classroom and locked the door with ' a_lohomora' _ as I let Harry go with a push. The other three hadn't noticed a thing, still screaming and running, their footsteps travelling further and further away by the second.

I had managed to do it. I couldn't believe it. Harry was sprawled on the floor in front of me, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, apparently yelling something. He jumped up and drew his wand to chest height as I stood there, wanting to wait a few more seconds before removing the spell. It was amusing watching Harry think he could actually cast something with his voice gone.

I muttered, "finite incantatum," and suddenly Harry could talk again.

He shot his hand to his neck and glared. "What the hell, Malfoy!" His eyes were almost slits and in the pale moonlight streaming in from the large windows behind us, I saw his hand shaking slightly.

I raised my hands in surrender, "I just want to talk."

"Talk?" Harry spat, sounding taken aback. "What could I possibly want to talk to you about?"

"Look, I think we got off on the wrong-"

"There is no wrong foot Malfoy," Harry interjected, "you're a slimy cockroach and I have nothing I want to say to you, now unlock that door."

"Harry-" I sounded pleading, but it went unnoticed.

"Let me go Malfoy," he threatened, "or I'll give you a little something more serious than the inability to talk."

"No!" I yelled, "it's not supposed to be like this! Harry, we should be friends! I don't want to fight with you."

Harry baulked. He screwed up his face and shook it as if trying to dislodge something from his ears. "What?"

"I want us to be friends," I repeated, feeling stupid and small and embarrassingly weak.

"I would never be friends with-" his snarling words were cut off by my hand suddenly over his mouth again.

He growled, annoyed at this happening twice now, but I hissed in his ear, "shh! Filch's cat!"

The snuffling sound of a little nose was right outside the door, and then Mrs Norris began clawing at the wood, mewing loudly. I shot a glance at Harry; his eyes were wide and he wasn't protesting my hand anymore. I let him go, and we backed away from the door, careful not to bump into the desks lined up around us. Footsteps stopped right outside, and the doorknob rattled, as if being shaken. I gulped and then had to suppress a gasp when suddenly somehow Harry's hand slipped into my own and squeezed tightly. My eyes darted up to Harry's face, but he didn't even seem aware of what he was doing, his gaze fixed, terrified, on the door.

"I know you're in there, you are going to be in a lot of trouble when I catch you, first years!" Filch's croaky voice echoed through the keyhole.

I felt as if my heart was going to explode out of my chest, and it wasn't because of Argus Filch at the door. Anyone who was anyone knew that Filch was a useless Squib and wouldn't be able to unlock a magically sealed door.

Harry was holding my hand.

**Hope you enjoyed it! Please review! It really makes my day! :3**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the late update! The holiday season really got me busy! Hope everyone's was fun and safe! Please enjoy!**

* * *

Harry's hand was tight and clammy as he gripped mine. I didn't dare move an inch for fear of him letting go. I could feel his pulse racing in his wrist, and was sure he was holding his breath.

Filch was still shaking the doorknob, his raspy voice jeering and filled with sickening excitement at the thought of catching students out of bed. It seemed like time was moving in slow-motion and what was probably only minutes felt like an hour. I just started to imagine a life where I would grow old holding Harry's hand inside a locked classroom when there came a thundering crash from far away. Filch cursed loudly and shouted "Peeves!" There was a hesitant rustling and the old man swore. "This is the last straw; I'm going to get the headmaster to toss you out by your grubby little toes this time poltergeist!" Footsteps sounded, running away from the door and a moment later it was dead quiet. Even Mrs. Norris had fled to investigate the commotion.

Harry let out a huge sigh, his body slumping, "thank Godric!"

The movement caused friction between our interlaced fingers and Harry stiffened, looking down at our hands. I held my breath and felt the awkward tension build around us as he finally realized what he was doing.

"What the hell Malfoy!" Harry shouted, ripping his arm away as if he'd just been burnt. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Me?!" I spluttered, my eyes going wide. I pointed a finger in his now red face, "don't accuse me, you grabbed _my_ hand!"

He faltered for the briefest of seconds before shouting, "Shut up! And unlock the damn door!"

I pushed my thumb and forefinger into the bridge of my nose before conceding. "Fine, whatever Potter. " I muttered the counter curse on the door and it clicked open.

"Just stay the hell away from me, Malfoy," Harry glared back over his shoulder, as he headed towards the door. "You're the last person I'd ever want to be friends with."

I listened as his footsteps faded away into the distance and with every echoing sound the hurt that welled up inside my chest became acidic and dissolved away, leaving behind only icy hatred.

* * *

A week passed in which I went out of my way to avoid any sort of interaction with the Boy Wonder, except in Potions class where it was easy to get him into trouble by levitating the wrong things into his cauldron when he wasn't looking. I didn't want to see the smug look on his face from rejecting me for the second time; I didn't want him to see the embarrassment and regret that still shadowed my cheeks every time he came into my line of vision. On the following Tuesday in the Great Hall during the morning mail deliveries my attention –along with everyone else's- was drawn to a small parliament of owls carrying a long, thin parcel wrapped conspicuously. It landed on the Gryffindor table right in front of Potter. Amidst all the commotion happening around the red table, I watched as Harry tore open a letter that landed atop the package and he and Ron skimmed it. A moment later they both stood up and began heading towards the door, the unwrapped parcel under Harry's arm.

My curiosity getting the better of me I motioned for Vincent and Greg to follow, ignored Pansy's call of questioning protest, and caught up with the two boys at the bottom of the stairs in the Entrance Hall. Vincent and Greg blocked their path as they made to start climbing the stairs. I snatched the package from Harry and felt along the soft paper.

"That's a broomstick," I glared, throwing it back to Harry. The memory of when I first encountered Harry in Madam Malkin's and bragged about sneaking one in – surely he wasn't that stupid to think he could get away with having one just _posted _to him? "You'll be for it this time potter, first years aren't allowed them."

"It's not any old broomstick, it's a Nimbus 2000!" the weasel gloated, his eyes shining with smugness that should really have belonged to Harry, "What did you say you had at home Malfoy, a Comet 260? Comets look flashy but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."

MY eyes narrowed at Ron and I shot back, "what would you know about it Weasley ? You couldn't afford half the handle; I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig. "

Before any sound could come out of Ron's open mouth Professor Flitwick appeared at my elbow.

"Not arguing I hope boys?" the tiny man squeaked, his fingers tapping one another in that weird nervousness he always carried around with him.

"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," I said before Harry or Ron could reply. To my absolute annoyance Flitwick simply started beaming excitedly and turned to the Gryffindor.

"Yes, yes that's right," he said, "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances Potter, and uh what model is it?"

Harry couldn't help the smirk that pulled at the side of his mouth as he replied, "a nimbus 200 sir, and it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it."

My face twisted into a dark scowl. _Thanks to me? What the hell do I have to do with Harry getting a broomstick? _He and Weasley shook with stifled laughter as they pushed past Crabbe and Goyle and disappeared up the stairs.

* * *

In between classes and brooding on how much I hated Harry Potter, Halloween came creeping around the corner. It both delighted and disheartened me because Halloween was my favourite holiday and back at home I had spent every year dressing up as a dementor and chasing my husband around the courtyard trying to kiss him. Halloween Eve was spent tossing and turning in bed, trying to rid my mind of Harry, my Harry, who I wished more than ever was here now. Pansy and Greg and Vincent, and the other boys in my year were fine friends, but something was still missing, and I knew exactly what it was. Determined to keep my promise to Mother -and not seem like the kid on the crazy train- I crawled deep into the emerald green of my duvet, screwed my eyes shut tight and refused to open them, scared that he might just show up again.

The next day the sun was far too bright to think it was autumn and the brown and red leaves glowed as I stared up from under the tree. Some of the first year Slytherins gathered under its shade, enjoying a festively themed lunch of green pea soup served in miniature cauldrons and chocolate bats. Pansy sat beside me, carving out a motif of a rat into the face of a pumpkin with her wand. Her friend, Milicent, stretched out across a large patch of grass and doodled pictures of obscene stick figures in her notebook.

"What did you get for question 13 Draco?" Zabini asked, scratching the side of his face with his quill and dragging a splash of ink across his cheek. Milicent snorted and I rolled my eyes.

"You have to squeeze the juice from five beetle eyes over the broth, but only add three and stir it twice clockwise then once anti-clockwise or else it will curdle," I said after glancing at the question to refresh my memory, "Snape told me it has something to do with the amount of unicorn hair in the potion."

"You're so smart Draco," Pansy gushed and held up the finished pumpkin, "but I bet you can't do better than this!"

"I could if I wanted to," I said cooly, leaning back against the tree trunk with my hands behind my head. "I just don't feel like it."

"Sure, sure."

My attention returned to the leaves; two had just detached themselves from a branch and floated down slowly, dancing and twirling in the breeze. If they weren't the exact same colour as Potter's Qudditch robes I would have thought it was pretty; instead the red and gold just left a thick feeling in my throat that didn't go away when I swallowed. The most probable reason for this would be jealousy but I want entirely convinced that's all it was.

Word had quickly got around the school that Harry Potter was the new seeker for the Gryffindor quidditch team. Jealousy built up inside me and I spent every second chance I could making jokes about the upcoming game to anyone who would listen.

That night, during dinner, Professor Quirrell came running into the Great Hall, his turban askew and tripping over his own feet. He collapsed at the staff table mumbling something about a troll being spotted in the dungeons. Instantly the entire hall was in an uproar. The headmaster calmed everyone down with a few sparks from the end of his wand and ordered the Prefects to lead their houses back to their common rooms.

I screwed my face up, "back to the common room? Our common room is in the dungeon, what is this fool playing at!?"

"Oh don't be so daft Draco, just hurry up, all the Slytherins are leaving!" Pansy said, grabbing the sleeve of my robe.

"No way!" I pulled back out of her grip and began heading away from the others.

"Draco!" her voice was shrill and frantic, "Draco where are you going?"

I didn't reply but she was already running after me as I pushed past a small group of young Ravenclaws and started up the stairs towards the Astronomy tower.

"Draco!" Pansy was calling again.

"What-AGH!" I cried out, turning back and consequently pushing my foot through the trick stair in the moving staircase. I fell up to my thigh and cursed as my knee smacked against the wood of the stair above where my leg was trapped.

"Oh no," Pansy gasped. She hurried the last few feet to catch up to me and placed her hands around my arm, intending to help me out.

"Don't touch me," I snapped, reefing my arm out of her grip and grabbing onto the railing. I tried to heave myself out but my leg was well and truly jammed.

Pansy covered her mouth –whether to stifle a laugh or a sob I couldn't tell, but I glared at her all the same. "This is your fault," I huffed, crossing my arms across my chest.

"So let me help you," the brunette offered desperately again, extending her hand out.

I continued to death stare her but grudgingly allowed her to take my arm. She braced herself against the lower stair and with a well-timed twist, my leg dislodged and I tumbled out on top of her. She staggered back, hitting her head on the rail behind her, and we both slumped down onto the stairs, groaning and clutching our wounds. The entire stairway was deserted; assumedly everyone was already halfway back to their common rooms by now.

"You are, by far, the most annoying person I know," I whined, pulling my robes back around me and standing up. I scowled, noticing a small tear in the satin lining of my expensive specially tailored robed Mother bought me and flicked my wand at it –possibly a little too hastily, as it caught alight and I yelped. Pansy thwarted the little fire with her hat and blushed deeply.

"Draco I'm sorry!" she moaned, "I just didn't want you to get in trouble, where were you going?"

"Not were," I corrected her, "_are; _I'm going up to the roof."

"Why on earth would you want to go up there?" Pansy's eyebrows narrowed in confusion.

I sighed, feeling exasperated and getting nowhere, "_because there's a TROLL in the dungeons! _I'm getting as far away from that as I can! I'm not going to blindly follow my house back _into the dungeons!"_

"But Draco surely-"

"No," I cut her off, jumping over the vanishing step, "I'm leaving."

"Wait, I'll come with you!" Pansy called after me as I started up the stairs again.

"What makes you think I want you to?" I rolled my eyes, picking up my pace.

"Stop being such a spoiled, little, wet sock Draco Malfoy!"

The childish insult threw me slightly, and I spun back around, my eyebrow lifted up into my fringe. We looked at each other silently for a moment before both cracking into stupid grins.

"Oh bloody hell," I sighed, "come on then."

We made our way up the tower and emerged into cool, damp air. It felt refreshing on my face and the stars were so plentiful that everything was easily visible on the grounds. The Whomping Willow sat deceptively still and calm-looking from the distance, its bare branches hunched over and brushing the moss-covered ground. I leant against the turret and rest my head on my hand, surveying the large, black expanse of the Forbidden Forest. Everything looked so peaceful and quiet, the night punctuated only with the noise coming from the owlery in the opposite tower. Up here you would never be able to tell that there was currently a twelve-foot mountain troll loose in the castle.

"So, tell me," Pansy spoke, breaking the small illusion of solidarity, "why do you hate Potter so much all of a sudden?"

"That's a stupid question Pansy," I replied, watching from the corner of my eye as she siddled a tiny bit closer. "I haven't liked that twat since I met him on the train."

"No you haven't," she said, "and you promised me you would explain why you went chasing after him the other night too. That was over a week ago."

"I don't have to tell you every little thing that goes on in my life."

"Draco, I thought we were friends," she sounded hurt. _Shit._

I hesitated and then put a tentative hand on her shoulder, "we are. I just…"

"Just what?"

"I have some stuff I have to deal with right now that doesn't concern anyone." At least it wasn't a lie.

"It concerns Harry though, doesn't it?" Pansy pushed on softly.

"No!" I snapped, "It has nothing to do with that stupid tosser! Give it up Panse."

"I wasn't talking about Potter," her tone lowered and she levelled her eyes to stare right into my own.

I shifted uncomfortably; it felt like she was looking right through me. "What the hell are you talking about, that doesn't even make any sense."

"I'm talking about your little boyfriend," Pansy said. "That boy you used to tell me about when we were little. You said his name was Harry Potter, and that you were going to marry him."

Suddenly the bright night sky was too revealing and I could feel the scarlet creep onto my cheeks and my robes felt too hot. "Pansy, I was six, I probably said and did a lot of dumb things, I'm sure you played stupid games when you were little too."

"See but that's the thing," the girl continued, her voice dropping into something that sounded like pity and understanding, "I don't think you realise how much you went on about him, it was like you were obsessed. And I think that obsession followed you to Hogwarts…. you wanted to make friends with this boy you dreamt up all through your childhood-"

"I didn't dream him up!" I cut her off, feeling my temper rise around my ears, "shut up, you have no _idea_ what you're talking about."

"Draco…"

"Drop it," I glared, wishing desperately that I hadn't fallen into that damn trick stair so that I could be enjoying the rooftop on my own.

"I know it must be hard," Pansy tried once more, "I mean, having your best friend finally become something tangible and then having it all fall to pieces around you. I would be upset too."

I opened my mouth to yell at her again, but when I looked into her eyes they were wide and full of understanding. "You really remember that long ago?" I finally asked.

Before Pansy could answer, the tower door swung open and Snape burst through, his face contorted with a world of emotions – the most prominent being fear and anger.

"What in **_Salazaar's name_** do you think you pair are doing up here!?" he hissed loudly, swooping down on us like an oversized crow. If I were anyone else I probably would have wet myself. "A troll, loose in the castle and you pair think it's a grand idea to go stargazing!? Twenty points from Slytherin!"

"Professor we-" Pansy squeaked, shrinking back inside her robes.

"Miss Parkinson, hold your tongue," Snape snapped, "I want you both back in your dormitories –_**where you should have been half an hour ago - **_without another word!" Fury visibly rolled off the dark-haired man in waves as he tried to compose himself, pointing towards the door. "And I will be seeing the pair of you in my office after your classes tomorrow for detention; I cannot believe two students from my own house could be so _stupid_!"

Pansy and I ran back to the Slytherin common room with our tails between our legs – Snape hadn't raised his voice or subtracted points from one of his own students in the whole two months we had been at school and frankly he was terrifying. He'd never even shouted at Potter like that, and he loathed the Gryffindor. I wondered whether it had anything to do with my father threatening Snape to make sure I didn't get into any sort of trouble or danger while at school.

When we reached our blank stone wall, Pansy panted out, "basilisk!" and it slid aside to allow us in. The room was eerie green-blue from the underwater windows facing into the Black Lake. I watched a small grindylow swim past one of the glass panels as I caught my breath. I didn't even say goodnight to Pansy, I just turned on my heel and ran across the room to the stairway leading down into my shared bedroom.

* * *

"Don't worry Scarhead, I'll be holding a mattress underneath you during the match for you," I called out across the corridor on our way to Defense Against the Dark Arts. A couple of other Slytherins snickered loudly, but Pansy looked at me from her peripheries and cocked an eyebrow.

"Draco stop it you just sound petty now," she lectured, digging through her bag to find her quill.

I glared at her, slowly realizing that brooding had become my new favourite sport. I just wanted to get under his skin and make his school life a living hell – the way he had so rudely made mine. Taunting, being one of my better skills, usually did the job but teasing him about his flying abilities didn't last long after Gryffindor won the first quidditch match of the season. I refused to admit even in my own head that Harry could definitely fly a broomstick, and that there was some very nasty foul play afoot during the game. Instead I chose to focus on Boy Wonder's talent of catching things in his mouth and commenting on the possibility of a wide-mouthed tree frog replacing him as seeker. Greg and Vincent guffawed and Theo Nott did an amusing impression of Harry looking like he was about to be sick on the pitch but the Golden Trio had already entered the classroom and seated themselves very far away from the Slytherin tables.

* * *

A few days later in Potions class I stared deliberately at Potter and drawled loudly, "I do feel so sorry for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts because they're not wanted at home." He pretended he hadn't heard, measuring out powdered spine of lionfish unfazed and I wanted to walk over there and just punch him in the face for ignoring me.

I left the dungeons and climbed the stairs to the next floor forty minutes later only to find the entire passageway blocked by the back end of enormous tree. Huge hands the size of dinner plates could be seen on the trunk amidst a shag of black curls on top of the Gamekeeper's head. He appeared to be trying to drag it through the hallway and had come stuck where it narrowed slightly.

"Would you mind moving out of the way," I called over the tree in annoyance, having to stand much closer than I would have preferred to the Gryffindors I shared my class with. Ron's backside was sticking out as he bent through the branches, conversing with the half-giant. "Are you trying to earn some extra money Weasley?" I added, "hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts I suppose; that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family is used to."

The red head made an unattractive noise and threw himself at me, his hands about to connect with my neck. Before any damage was inflicted however, Snape appeared at the top of the stairs. "Weasley," he said lowly, stopping Ron in his tracks.

Hagrid stuck his head around from behind the mass of wood and leaves. "He was provoked Professor Snape," he said quickly, "Malfoy was insulting his family."

I shot a dirty look at the big oaf and caught Potter's eye. He looked so self-righteous and glared back at me.

"Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules Hargid," Snape replied silkily, "five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. Move along all of you."

I smirked at the two lions and made sure to drive my shoulder into Potter's as Greg, Vincent and I pushed past them and through the tree, making our way towards the Great Hall for lunch.

* * *

On the last day of school before I headed back to the Manor for Christmas, I stopped by the library to pick up an extracurricular book on advanced potions that Snape recommended to read over the holidays. Armed with an exemplary note to allow me to take a book out of Hogwarts, I made my way to the end of the rows and spied Potter pouring over a book at a table near the back of the sitting area. After plucking the book I was after off the shelf I snuck closer, keeping an eye out for the other two that he never went anywhere without but they didn't seem around. When I was only a few feet away from his back when I said, "Potter," and he jumped visibly, spinning around looking guilty.

"Malfoy," he replied, shutting his book hastily, "what do you want?"

"What are you doing?" I retorted, craning to see what he was reading.

Harry snatched it and stuffed it onto his bag out of my view, "none of your business."

I sniffed loudly and lifted my chin in an attempt to feign ignorance. To be honest though I really didn't care what he was reading, I just wanted him to acknowledge I still existed. "Where's your little posse?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I don't need Crabbe and Goyle around me all the time."

"Could have fooled me," Harry raised his eyebrow and stood up, "now if that's all, I'm going."

"No it isn't," I started, regretting it instantly and trying to think of something decent to say that would keep him here.

Harry paused, his bag slung over one shoulder, waiting. "Well?" he said finally, when the normal length of response silence had lapsed.

I hesitated and then said, "Have a good Christmas." Instantly I wanted to kick myself in the face, _no, i didn't want him to have a good Christmas, I want him to be miserable and lonely and get eggnog poured down his jumper, what the hell is wrong with me?__  
_

Harry gave me a weird glare then answered, "shove off, Malfoy, you're not funny." He hitched his bag up and walked out, leaving me to stand there, my face feeling hot again.

On my way back to the dungeons I passed the open door of Snape's office and heard his voice ring out after me. "Draco?"

I doubled back a few steps and peered in. Snape sat at his desk, scrawling what looked like large red T's on the parchments in front of him. "Sir?"

"Come in," he said evenly, looking up from his work, "sit."

I entered the large room filled floor to roof of shelves covering with jars, and chose a seat on the hard-backed, black chair in front of his desk. The long eagle feather quill made a small clink on the dark wood as he set it down and leaned forward slightly. "How are you, Draco?"

"I'm fine Professor," I replied, unsure of what exactly he was implying.

"I'm just noticing you don't seem to be enjoying Hogwarts," Snape continued, "is there anything you want to discuss with me?"

I felt his eyes boring into mine and quickly dropped my gaze, hoping he wasn't reading my mind. "No, everything's fine."

Snape sighed. "What happened that day I found you in the corridor? You were crying."

I chewed my lip nervously, "I told you, I was just upset because I got lost."

"Is that the truth?"

"Of course it is!" I snapped, my temper rising. Why was everyone trying to make me talk to them about my problems?

"Calm down Draco," Snape held up one hand, "I'm only worried; first you're having breakdowns in my corridors next you're moonlighting on the roof with Parkinson while a troll was loose. You can forgive me for having concerns."

"Well," I huffed, crossing my arms in front of my chest, "even if there was something wrong, it has nothing to do with you." I could have kicked myself for acting so childish – I mentally hoped Father wouldn't be hearing about this meeting.

"You are my student and the son of a close friend of mine," Snape stood and walked around his desk to stand in front of me. "I have a duty of care to fulfil as a teacher, and," his eyes softened, "-as someone who cares. Anything you want to talk to me about Draco, you know you have my complete confidence, unless of course it's a matter of safety."

"I'd rather not if it's all the same to you," I stood and picked up my bag, heading for the door, "Merry Christmas, Professor."

"I'll be here over the holidays," Snape called out after me, "if you feel like writing at all."

I didn't reply and just headed back to my dormitory to gather my things and catch the train back to London.

* * *

**Please remember to review so I know what you think! :3**


End file.
